


It Has Been Said...

by didsomeonesayventus



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Character Study, Gen, One Shot Collection, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, dunno what to tag as so feel free to give recs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didsomeonesayventus/pseuds/didsomeonesayventus
Summary: Not every story is legend, and not every struggle has been passed into myth or record. Sometimes the smallest stories, the most miniscule of rumors, belie the mythic stature of even the greatest heroes.Sometimes an epic journey is much, much smaller than history remembers it.





	It Has Been Said...

Link huddled under the awning of the stable, as always too aware and too ignorant of the gazes settled on the back of this wandering stranger who didn’t settle inside. His boots- still breaking in and odd after a century of regression and reconstruction in how footwear was made after the Calamity -grew muddy but not quite soaked on the dirt path leading into the stable’s hotel. The rain soaked the cloth awning above him but didn’t seem to quite drip thanks to the candle wax coating to catch it. Something the East Akkala Stable had learned from Lakeside and the torrential downpours that plagued the southern jungles of Hyrule.

He didn’t like the stables much beyond the horses and services and the bare taste of civilization without having to stare at it too hard. The towns and busier settlements were nice, but they felt too urban, too stifling, too different. The stables weren’t much different. They were all cold water, just to varying degrees of plunging into the shocking depths, so with his toes in the small pockets of culture he could at least say he was tolerant of them.

Link rose to his feet, pulled up his hood- waterproofed in a far less skilled way -and saddled up Epona to leave. He’d bartered with Robbie over Guardian parts that he’d pried out of the thankfully dead units, gotten the rupees and supplies he wanted, so his work here was done. People were already spreading rumors about the swordsman in blue who vanished into light, so his Champion’s tunic was tucked away in saddlebags as he made his pedestrian exit. His only goodbye was a quick wave.

He pulled out his Sheikah Slate, still surprised that the water did nothing to impede its functions. Droplets warped the map, but he only needed to see the blue emblem of a shrine. The day was begun, but not half-over. If he had enough time, maybe he could ride to somewhere more remote like towards the central plains, but he was already lacking in time. He zoomed in and squinted at a location. “Ulria Grotto...” He muttered, thinking to the rhythm of Epona’s hooves. He veered off the road, deciding it was as good a place as any, but Epona...

Well, the stables were used to her coming back riderless, but he always affixed a note saying he meant for her to come back alone. He regretted riding her out in the storm only to decide he wasn’t going to ride her to a shrine to stay the night, but at least the note he used every time- “Caught exploring dangerous territory, take care of her. -Link” -was a good enough catch all that no one could dispute. Soon enough he was fading into light and heading for what the slate had called Ke’nai Shakah. He wasted no time hurrying in when he arrived, ignored the sway of his legs after the transport to toss wood and flint in the back lift while pulling a dark cloth from his inventory.

Hylia had sent him a blessing with the small rectangle. Not only was it generations upon generations of precise information and perfect analysis, it could hold almost everything he needed. He wasn’t sure how Hestu’s dancing figured into the tech, why it only affected his arsenal and not anything else, but all that was jotted in his journal as a definite question for Zelda. He wasn’t the scholar between them.

The cloth served to cover up the evidence of him being here over the night. Chu jelly glue (with a few horns and claws and bonier monster bits stewed in for good measure) held it in place long enough for him to get temporary refuge, and in the dim light of night the only sign would be smoke. Not much he could do about that.

He laid out a bedroll by the fire and curled up. He’d managed to finally get himself a traveler’s blanket, some rough cotton thing that at least did a good job of keeping him warm. No more snuggling up in just the downy snowquill clothing from the Rito for warmth in the night or seeking shelter elsewhere.

Stables only charged 20 rupees. Wouldn’t’ve been hard for him to get the night in a bed. He didn’t like sleeping in a bed that wasn’t his, didn’t like wasting the money if this was totally serviceable. He didn’t like society. He didn’t like the buildings hewn from what used to be younger trees, how they weathered differently, were built differently. He didn’t like looking into someone’s eyes and in them the ignorance of a hundred years and the fullest proof he had failed.

He pulled out his journal again, rolled over to fuss with the pages and read over his notes. Recipes, quests, rumors, and, most precious of all, a multitude of questions to ask Zelda. Some of them were simple, small things. The small curiosities of a child, which was unremarkable given several of his questions of this nature were spawned from the innocent and blithe conversations he had with Koroks before they parted ways.

Some of them were painful to write down: “What did my father look like?”, “What was the name of the pastry shop? What road did it waft its sweet scent onto?”, “Where did I get this scar?”, “Where did we run when the Guardians came? how did I die?”, “Why am I friends with the other Champions? How did I meet Daruk, how long have I known Mipha?”

Link knew his memory was recovering, and it would heal in time, but a hundred years took a thousand moments from him. It stung like a cloud of keese. Small, almost unnoticeable on their own, easy to deal with and easy to defeat, but came to swarm him in overwhelming agony as one lost memory became two, two became four, four became eight, on and on until he felt like he was in a stranger’s body.

The fire was dying. He couldn’t sleep. He pulled out the Sheikah Slate once more and flicked through the album at all the traces of their adventure Zelda had left behind. Her voice wafted from the moving picture he selected: “The flowers we have in Hyrule aren’t just beautiful...”

He smiled softly at her delight. A small, almost pained one that carved his youthful face a hundred years older. He let the tablet power off, rolled onto his back, signed into the darkness as what surely must have been raindrops rolled down his cheeks:

‘I can’t wait to see you again. I can't wait to be home.’

**Author's Note:**

> hey so Breath of the Wild is a really great game and all but it's story was kinda lacking but AT LEAST there's plenty of room for unique interpretations of Link and opportunity for no two playthroughs to be exactly the same and thus players can make memorable moments that are all their own.
> 
> what im saying is im rectifying the lacking in story department by reconciling it with the fact that Link has a really compelling set up for character and unique interactions and environmental set ups so say hello to a drabble collection I'm gonna update here and there


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